


Evanesce

by altered_eagle, phoenixjustice



Series: Sad Pancake Man Hours [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Golden Lovers mention, Jay POV, Jay White's Showboating Often Covers Up Deep Self Doubts, Jay just wants pancakes pls life stop making it so hard, Kayfabe Compliant, Kenny Omega mention, M/M, Many feels pls just give them happiness life ;-;, Nothing like zimas and pancakes for you to reveal your inner most feelings (I'm looking at you Jay), The conbini cashier probably deserves a raise, Zimas, and Naito deserves a medal lol, mentions of other Bullet Club members, post Wrestle Kingdom 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28832439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/altered_eagle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: He should be celebrating his Main Event.And instead all he can do is think of Tetsuya Naito.
Relationships: Naito Tetsuya/Jay White
Series: Sad Pancake Man Hours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096271
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	Evanesce

Evanesce

By: PhoenixJustice

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was easy enough to find a bar; it was usually the go to for most of the Bullet Club after an event to cool down (Suzuki-gun too, though the groups didn't usually run into each other-and ignored each other for the most part if they did), so no one thought anything amiss, despite everything, when Jay says they said should find one.

It was right after _Wrestle Kingdom,_ after all.

And he had been in the _main event!_

And it _should_ be that thought and not any others, that has him sitting down at the nearest stool as soon as they arrive at the _Tempest,_ one of the more famous bars in the area, and downing his first whiskey shot...but it isn't.

If it were _that_ fucking simple, well, then he wouldn't be at some bar in Tokyo when he could be elsewhere. Alone. But being alone right now was probably not the best idea.

"Another one?" Yujiro asks him.

He nods and Yujiro pushes one his way. He was sitting a stool over from him and he wondered if that was by design. This was supposed to be a celebration, of sorts, but he couldn't say, at least to himself, that paranoid thoughts weren't running around his head, even now. _Especially_ now.

The bar was scarcely filled, partly because it was a smaller place that was already packed to the brim with wrestling memorabilia, and the other part because not all of the Bullet Club (that was currently in Japan) were there. It wasn't a noticeable absence for EVIL (and by extension Dick Togo) as he rarely joined whenever Jay was also there. No one in the stable commented on it but everyone knew the tension there.

Though he was sure no one knew _why_ the tension was there.

He wasn't a fool; he saw people's tweets and he heard wrestlers' whispers when they thought he couldn't hear them. And his...reasons were ones he knew people wondered about. Though depending on _who_ might be wondering…

He downs the next shot with a bit of a grimace but waves at the bartender for another one. This one he holds in his hand though, partially thankful that no one was bothering him but also kind of wanting someone to distract him. He'd just have to keep relying on liquid courage, he supposed.

He looks at the shot, idly swirling around the liquid, frowning.

He should be celebrating his Main Event.

And instead all he can do is think of Tetsuya Naito.

" _I don't care_ _who_ _I face."_

What a fucking joke _that_ was.

It should have been simple. He won the G1 contract and Naito was champion. It should be the two of them in the main event. ...but then Naito had to throw fucking _Ibushi_ a bone and give him a match and now they may not even… and Naito kept focusing so much of his attention on Ibushi and instead finds himself wrestling _Ibushi_ and then does Naito's stupid fucking taunt when the man wasn't even _there_ -

He downs the shot, feeling the burn in his throat as much as he did in his chest, slamming the shot down, giving a look to the bartender who refills it without speaking, downing the next shot and nearly drinking the next he gets but stops himself before it reaches his lips. He sets it down with a sigh.

What a fucking day to come to terms with himself.

Naito and Ibushi standing in the middle of the ring, staring at each other and all he could do was stare almost helplessly at Naito, despite his boisterous words to the both of them before.

_I love you._

His throat burns again and it isn't the alcohol that is burning it this time. He aches and he burns with it. It's consumed him for so long now he doesn't know how he's managed to try and deflect his true feelings to himself for all of this time.

He was in love with Naito.

He laughs helplessly, hand clutching the shot with a hard grip, before swallowing the alcohol in a quick motion.

_How do I tell you that I'm in love with you? And even if I do...would you even care?_

He laughs again, shaking his head.

It was going to be a long night.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He hadn't drank in a long time; his brief time away from Japan he had been focusing on his autograph signing event as well as trying _not_ to dwell on Japan too much during that time. And then there had been all of those _Road to Tokyo Dome_ shows.

Between that, _Wrestle Kingdom,_ as well as his own feelings for Tetsuya Naito, well…

Perhaps that's why he felt a sweet little buzz already. He had slowed down after the first few shots, after a surprisingly concerned look from Yujiro, but he still had one more before he slowed enough to sip on this next one (his sixth? Or was it seventh? Easy to lose count when he was focused elsewhere.)

He drinks the next one down.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There's a quiet hum in the background, with one of the small tv's in the place always having a wrestling match from different promotions on it, though he can't tell what's on it from where he's sitting. Still, there is a kind of thing in it that helps relax him. Or maybe that's the alcohol talking. It's been long enough that he can't recall how many he's had.

The few non-Bullet Club patrons had left long ago and at this point, even some of the others had left, like Tama and Tanga, though Fale and Chase were still in a corner, talking quietly amongst themselves, something Jay couldn't overhear and ignoring him quite well (or perhaps that was just his paranoia talking again; it was getting increasingly harder to tell.)

Yujiro had been a steady, if quiet, partner in drinking over the night, surprisingly quiet. He was usually very talkative when they had a group of all of them together, but he seemed pretty reflective. Maybe all of them had a lot more going on than Jay realized. Regardless, the quiet is both a blessing and a curse to him. He didn't feel like talking to others, but by the same token, it left him with his own thoughts and that...was often an exercise in hating himself all over again.

He was in love with Naito.

He puts his face in his hands, rubbing tiredly at his face. Why couldn't anything ever be simple? Why must he constantly have to come face to face with his own tightly hidden desires? What had finally been the thing to break it open, to where he couldn't ignore it anymore? Had it been Ibushi? Had it been them standing in the ring together, _ignoring him, Naito was ignoring him. That couldn't ever be ALLOWED. He had come so far, doing ALL of this so he would finally… finally…_

He hiccups out a laugh, not noticing the tears that start to fall from his eyes.

_I'M here. Me. Why do you even give Ibushi the fucking time of day? He hasn't even LOOKED your way for how many months? Leave him to pine over Kenny fucking Omega and look at me. But instead you HAND HIM YOUR TITLES. I saw you. The way you clung to them. The way *I* clung to them… He doesn't UNDERSTAND YOU, Naito..._

_No. No… Look at me. ME. What haven't I done, that needs to be done? When all I've EVER done is…_

He rubs at his face again, feeling the wetness there but ignoring it, or not noticing it.

"Fuck this." He hisses. He stands, nearly sending his barstool tumbling, but it surprisingly stays up in place, grabbing his jacket and putting it on in jerky motions.

"Hey, Jay-" Yujiro starts.

"Going to my hotel." He mutters, walking past the wrestler, nearly stumbling into him, but manages to get himself out of the bar relatively unscathed.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Luckily for him the hotel was close, not even a train needed, or he might have had to suck it up and ask for help there-and how humiliating would _that_ have been? He felt that way enough right now as it was, as if everyone around him, familiar to him or not, could guess at his thoughts.

Had the guy at the door of the hotel given him the stink eye? Maybe he was just seeing things. He'd say he was pleasantly buzzed if his thoughts were all swirling around in a negative space. But he gets to his hotel room without much more issue and if he stumbled into a wall on his way to his room, well that was between him, the wall, and the twins who were heading to an elevator (he hoped to _fuck_ they were twins and he didn't have double vision.)

He closes the door with a sigh, setting the keys down with a clank on the small side table next to the bed. He sits back on the bed, hand covering his face for a moment.

 _Fucking Naito. Fucking Ibushi. No, no, don't think about Naito and Ibushi and_ _fucking_ _in the same vicinity._

The _thought_ of Ibushi looking at Naito and touching him with his grubby little hands… the thought of Naito _smiling_ at Ibushi in their match. _Smiling at Ibushi_ …

 _That smile is meant for_ _ME!_

He lets out a cry, slapping whatever bits happened to be on the table, sending the keys and other things flying, putting his face into his hands.

Fucking Naito...why did he have to keep _tormenting_ him like this? He had been _glad_ when he had finally been okayed to go on excursion. Back when he had been a nearly shy at times Young Lion with stars in his eyes and unable to see past the Stardust Genius, wanting nothing more than for him to _praise_ him. For him to take note of Jay. But that had never come, not in the ways he wanted. In the ways that mattered.

And when he had been able to leave for excursion, he had thought those feelings would _fade._

But he could only ever think about him _more._

Even before that one brief meeting in a match they had when Jay was on excursion (and even then, they never got to wrestle each other in the match, when he had wanted to show how much he had _grown_ as a wrestler since the last time they had met) he had been thinking about him.

It had taken so much _time._ Time and metaphorically carving out his own bloody heart before he was able to stand in front of Tetsuya Naito once more. And then...and then to be able to say _I_ _am your equal._

Not Tanahashi. Not Okada. Not Omega. And _especially_ not Kota 'I only remember Naito exists on occasion' _Ibushi!_

_Him._

_Jay bloody White._

And _Ibushi_ thought he could just come waltzing in and act like he _deserves_ anything? Deserves a match (after losing to Jay!), deserves a spot on Wrestle Kingdom, deserves Naito's _attention._

_Champion, Kota fucking Ibushi._

He snarls a bit, getting up quickly from the bed, ignoring the slight spinning that happens when he does so and stalks over to his hotel mini fridge. He kneels down, opening up the contents and frowns.

Nothing in their but stupid fucking Zimas. _Zimas._ Of course he had to forget he had meant to pick up some stuff from a conbini for the rest of the week.

 _No one_ touched that stuff, sponsor or not. The only reason _he_ had any Zimas was because one, it was fun to take stuff. They were offered for wrestlers after big wins but there also tended to be an extravagant amount put out, so it wasn't unusual for wrestlers not even _a part_ of a big match to grab some, even if most everyone agreed it tasted like rancid piss. And two, after you drank enough, they still tasted like shit, but they were at least alcoholic drinks.

After a moment of hesitation, he grabs a few from the fridge and pops one open.

"One down to...something. I don't even know what I'm going on about right now." He says to no one, sighing.

And takes a drink.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Okay so. It's like this, okay? I….no no no I should start over again. Maybe you don't want to look at my face? But hey, it's not like _I_ took those titles or anyth-" He stops, cursing, taking another swig of the Zima in his hand.

"No, it was that _fucking_ Ibushi! 'Become God'? What in the fuck does that even _mean?_ Well he won the titles. Does that mean anyone who wins them becomes God? Am _I_ God? Is _Naito_ God? For fuck's sake…"

He mutters a few more choice curses under his breath, taking a few more swigs out of the bottle before throwing it down onto the carpeting in disgust. He opens up another one and takes a drink before letting out a long breath, heading into the bathroom and setting his hands down on the sinktop.

The sight before him in the mirror… the tired, worn eyes, the body hunched slightly from pain he was _still_ thrumming with from that match. A match that was, so people kept wanting to tell him, the match of his career thus far.

A match...no a _main event._ He _main evented Wrestle Kingdom._ Did what few had ever done and what even more _wanted_ to do.

And all he can taste is bitterness in his mouth.

 _Goddamn it Naito, why couldn't you have just told Ibushi_ _no_ _to the match?_

_All I wanted to do was wrestle you there._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He's back to pacing again, a new bottle in hand (and his Zima supply, as robust as it had been before, was starting to seriously dwindle.)

"Got to get this right." He mutters to himself. After all, when was the last time he had come up to Naito as anything but arrogant? Did Naito remember how Jay had been when he was a Young Lion?

And more than that-especially as inebriated as he currently was-did _he?_

He had done so much for so _long_ to distance himself from the Jay White of then, to make _others_ forget (to make _Naito_ forget. Because the last thing he _ever_ wanted was to be reminded of his failures. In that which he had done back then which had led to nothing…)

"Okay so…" He stops, trying to shake himself into a more coherent thought, which was becoming increasingly difficult the more the bottles of Zima became empty. "So… I like... well, no, I don't _like_ you. I...I mean I _do_ like you, Naito. But more than _that,_ I…"

He swallows, his throat drying.

"I love you." He says, wrenching his eyes closed. "All I've _ever_ done is...is…"

He lets out a yell, throwing the bottle in his hand, sending the contents spilling over the room.

"Why can't you love me back?" He whispers, tears gathering in his eyes once more.

He falls onto the carpet with a thud, ignoring the Zima that seeps a bit into his shirt and pants, turning onto his back.

_Knock._

"No heavyweight title, no intercontinental title, no special accolades," He mutters, his hand over his face. "No Bullet Club. Certainly none of them...where'n the fuck were they? Gedo was there but... what else?"

_Knock knock._

"No Naito. Ha, did I really expect him to come and see me? All that ever happens is _me_ going to _him._ Him in the ring or outside of it, getting his attention…"

_Knock knock knock._

"Not even any special dinner. Or breakfast. Is it breakfast time now?" He pauses, moving his hand, sitting up, ignoring the sting in his eyes, as he looks over at the hotel room door.

_Knock._

He grumbles some more, before making his way over and opening it slowly.

"Sir. Are you alright? Some guests said they heard some noises?"

His mouth thins and he straightens up the best he can.

"'M.." He coughs, clearing his throat. " _I'm fine._ But thank you."

The hotel staff member looks at him with only faintly veiled concern before bowing and leaving.

He closes the door and slides against it, quiet for a moment. Eventually he runs a hand through his hair.

"This is Japan," He says out loud, to no one. "They got all kinds of convenience things."

It wasn't a full course dinner fit for a champion, for _the_ champion. But...it'd have to do.

He was getting hungry.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

And he forgot his wallet. It might have taken him twice as long to get back up to his hotel room to get it, which certainly didn't help his mood or movements...though both were probably from the alcohol. And it also takes longer than he'd like to _find_ it. He has to squirm on his stomach, his shirt soaking in a bit more of the Zima that had yet to dry, pulling it out from under the western style bed.

It didn't seem any worse for wear, unlike much of the rest of the hotel room. He starts to put it into a pocket as he's leaving again, but he quickly realizes he _has_ no pockets, as he's still in his ring attire.

"Fuck." He mutters and instead squeezes it into one of his boots.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He probably should have been a bit colder than he felt, but the alcohol has left him feeling warm as well as buzzed so his exit from the hotel, barely hearing the doorman's polite goodbye to him and not acknowledging it.

At this time of night there is little foot traffic and the few who are out give him a wide berth. And even if they hadn't, he would have barely noticed anyway; his thoughts were still, as doused in alcohol as they were at this point, swirling around the past few days.

He hadn't intended to watch Night 1 of Wrestle Kingdom, despite him being in Japan. The mere _thought_ of the main event had made his skin crawl (despite him knowing in the back of his mind that it would be a good, if not great, one.)

Not that he had even expected to be in the same area as Naito during Night 1, but there shouldn't have been any _worry._ But Tetsuya Naito was not nothing, if he wasn't unpredictable. So him deciding to let Ibushi have a match on the first night? He supposed he should have seen it coming _because_ he didn't see it coming.

Maybe he should have though. They had more of a history, Ibushi and Naito, than he and Naito did. What was it? A couple of years? He couldn't even count the time when he was a Young Lion, could he? Those times when Naito messed around with him when he was on the outside of the ring. It didn't mean anything. Did Naito even really _look_ at him then? He put so much out of his memory about back then that it was hard to recall.

Or maybe that was due to all the alcohol.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He could see a conbini up in the distance, but there was a vending machine closer so he headed over to that first.

"Sweat...sweat...what the hell is with Japan and calling drinks after _sweat?_ Where's t'food at?" He mutters to himself. He kneels down, squinting at the contents in the machine. Maybe he was overlooking something. "Ah wait. Some kind of cookie...thing. I don' even wanna know."

Well maybe he should get something to drink at least, something that _wasn't_ alcohol. Though it had done a lot to bolster his system against the cold, he was starting to feel it now (especially since he left without his jacket.

He pauses.

Which boot did he leave his wallet in again?

As he's pondering that, taking off one of his boots to look, someone else walks up to the machine and gets something out of it, a clang of whatever drink or other item they bought hitting the bottom of the machine.

Ah! His left boot! He digs it out and starts searching for a smaller bill as he straightens up.

"Partner?"

He glances over. A woman, a tourist it looked like.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh I'm sorry. Just the picture in your wallet. I just happened to see it. Your partner?"

It takes his buzzed head a moment to realize what she said. First he flushes at the implication (and at her non judgemental expression) then he pales once he looks down at his wallet and the picture inside. He's scrambling to get up, snapping his wallet shut and hurrying away before he can hear anything else she has to say.

His heart is beating a mile a minute in his chest as he runs, the tears on his face feeling like ice from the cold. He finally stops a few moments later, leaning up against the wall of the convenience store he had spotted not long before.

Stupid... _stupid!_

Stupid sentimental _Jamie._

To be sentimental over a moment that no way in hell Naito even remembered.

Being a bright eyed and hopeful 21 year old who loved wrestling more than he had ever loved anything else-and then seeing something...someone...who he'd come to love even mo-

He puts his hands to his face, rubbing hard at his tears.

Being that same 21 year old who hadn't hesitated, later, to join New Japan when they asked, because he had been so utterly _taken,_ yes by the match itself of Hiroshi Tanahashi and Tetsuya Naito in the G1 Climax Finals of that year, but of the _Stardust Genius._

The fire that lay in his eyes, his body, in how he did everything with purpose in a way that no one else on that roster did. How he could see that determination with every nearfall, every pin attempt, in the _beauty_ of that Stardust Press. But even _more_ than that, it was seeing the pain in his face, however much it hurt, when fans who didn't appreciate his win nor _wanted_ it, and how beautiful he looked in that moment.

Human. Not a god, not an Ace. He wasn't like Tanahashi, no matter how much he had tried to emulate him. Nor was he like Ibushi who he had briefly teamed with. Or anyone else. Naito looked as though he tried to fill molds that weren't meant to fit him. And Jay knew how that felt, better than anyone.

It made him feel a _kinship_ with a man he had never met.

So being that same, bright eyed, and filled with so many feelings, old and new, he had gone the first opportunity he could to Japan, barely knowing any Japanese and thrown by everything else, to go to a simple meet and greet. So he could give his thanks, however awkward and hesitant, to him and to get a picture. To remember how his heart beat so quickly in his chest he thought it would burst, when Naito put his arm around him, smiling for the photo.

He laughs now. How pathetic was he? All he could do was remember things that meant nothing to _anyone,_ save for himself. To cling to a love that had never been fulfilled or would ever… because Naito clearly had his eyes _elsewhere,_ didn't he? Didn't matter that Ibushi barely paid any attention to him, except when he clearly wanted something (like title shots) or that everyone knew that Ibushi and Kenny Omega were endgame, no matter that they were in different companies now and in different circumstances…

Here _he_ was, only 28, a _Gaijin main eventing Wrestle Kingdom._ And at that age! It was...unheard of. He was constantly doing things that had never been done, like winning the G1 Climax contract from the contract holder.

And yet where did all his hard work get him? One shoe, barely dressed in freezing weather, drunker than he can remember being, in pain from the hardest fought match of his life.

No titles, no...anything.

He sighs and makes his way inside.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The conbini was pretty empty at this time of night, the only sounds were the near silent hum of some of the machines and some music that was being played. There had been one patron but they quickly left as soon as they spotted him, leaving only him and a single cashier who seemed to be doing his best to politely ignore Jay _and_ keep an eye on him. Whatever. He wasn't throwing him out so he didn't really care what else he thought.

And if there were any pluses to Japan, it was that they had all kinds of good foods available at any time of night, even at convenience stores. Which was a _super_ plus for those who were quite drunk like Jay was.

"Rice ball...rice ball…" He mutters, moving down one of the aisles, squinting at the labeling as he does so. "Ramen...chips...need something _substantial._ Don't these stores know how hard wrestling is?"

He grumbles a bit more under his breath. This is why more restaurants needed to be close to the hotel (and open at this time of night!) How _else_ was a wrestler supposed to get a good meal to get energy back? Like a good breakfast or something. Hmm. That didn't sound bad actually.

"Hey." He says to the cashier who jumps a bit in surprise. "Oh, sorry. Just...do you have any pancakes?"

The cashier stares at him for a moment. Oh shit was he speaking English and didn't realize it? Or maybe speaking Japanese too quickly.

"Pan. cakes." He says very slowly, enunciating the words as best he can. Didn't do to slur his words when pancakes were at stake.

"Pancakes?" The cashier asks, confused.

"Yeah, pancakes! D'you sell them? I was going to get something out of the vending machine," He babbles, waving one of his hands wildly. "But there was only Sweat and other stuff I didn't want in there. What kind of name is Sweat for a drink anyway?"

"Pocari Sweat?"

"Yeah that! I'm just trying to get something to eat." Jay says, leaning up against the counter now. "But I don't know this area so well. Used to Ribera and other places, you know?"

"...Yes?"

"Yes! Right. So." He leans in a little closer, eyes squinting again as he tries to bring the cashier into better focus (the bright light wasn't helping his eyes as it was.) "Pancakes! A good stack of them should do the trick. Filling but not too filling? Can soak up things. Speaking of soak. You guys got anything for beer spills?"

He sets his boot down onto the counter and when the cashier shakes his head, eyes a bit wide in his face, he goes back to looking for some pancakes.

"I mean they sell egg things all the time," He says to no one in particular. "So they should have more breakfast stuff than that."

He starts to pick up a box and turns to the cashier who has a phone in his hands now.

"How much is this?" He yells.

"Sir, please. If you can-"

"Look! I lost my main event. Lost any title chances. Lost at the _Tokyo Dome._ Do you get it?!" He stalks over back to the cashier, grabbing onto his lapels. "I didn't even get to face Tetsuya Naito. You know who he is right? Everyone in bloody fucking Japan knows who he is! So I just...if I could just have one thing like some fucking _pancakes_ then _maybe_ I'll feel a bit better about my fucking self!"

"Jay."

"Not asking for a lot. Just want-"

" _Jay!"_

He looks over, hands still grabbed onto the cashier's lapels.

It was Naito.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Oh." Jay says, letting go of the cashier's shirt. "Sorry. I must really be on the sauce. Jus' thought I saw Naito. I mentioned him right? You know him? Great wrestler?"

"Good to know what you think of me, _amigo._ But you should leave him alone." Naito says, walking over, setting something onto the counter and adjusting his hat. He looks at Jay for a moment before grabbing onto his belt and starts to pull him away.

"I…wha?! Wait." He protests. He glances back at the utterly bemused cashier. "M' hungry."

"Leave the nice man to his work."

"But _pancakes!"_ He moans pitifully. "I just want some pancakes, Tetsuya."

Naito pauses, which leaves Jay a bit confused as he doesn't really register what he just said to him.

"I'll get you whatever you need, okay?"

"You will?"

"Nn."

"Why didn't you say so? Then...wait, why are you still pulling me out of here?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He has to wait outside-after Naito points for him to stay put-which he begrudgingly does.

He was still feeling a bit foggy in the brain so takes a minute of impatient waiting before his eyes widen.

"Holy shit." He murmurs.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

"I'm just... _that was Naito."_

"Indeed."

"How is...wait." He looks up, where Naito is looking back at him, a boot in hand, eyebrow raised. "Why d'you have my boot?"

"You left it, Jay. Here, lift your foot up."

"Okay." He lifts his foot up. "I was wondering why my foot was cold."

Naito seems to be holding back a laugh, shaking his head at Jay gesturing for him to extend it out. Jay's breath catches when he gets on a knee before him, swallowing hard. The picture of Naito there beneath him…

"Must have hit my head."

"What did you hit?" Naito asks almost mechanically, helping Jay get his cold and slightly damp foot into the boot.

"Well I mean _you're_ here, so I'd have to have hit it, right? I'm dreaming?"

Naito pauses again, but starts to lace the boot up with practiced precision, even though the boot was different than his own he wore to the ring.

"You dream of me?" Naito asks in a strangely hoarse voice.

"Oh well... _yeah."_ He says, shrugging his shoulders, feeling a bit cold up against the brick, save for the places on his leg Naito touches with his surprisingly warm hands. "Thanks."

Naito pats his now booted leg briefly, nodding and getting up a bit slowly.

"You're welcome."

"Pancakes now?" He asks.

Naito sighs.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You drive?" He asks, surprised, running a hand over the interior. "I mean you did so in that documentary but…"

Naito pauses in the middle of fixing Jay's seatbelt, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Documentary?"

"Yeah. You know, the one talking about your recovery from your knee injury and all that." He waves a careless hand around. "Oh! And that time in that one video, driving around with Ibushi."

His mouth thins and he slouches in the seat a bit, ignoring Naito as the man fixes his own seatbelt now, getting the car going.

"Why you were hanging around with him." He shakes his head, snorting. "Of all people…"

"Not like I can change the past, Jay." Naito finally says.

Jay glances over at him, unable to help himself, but Naito's eyes are trained on the road.

"No...no you can't." He murmurs. "No matter how much you rip apart yourself to try to."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The ride was quiet for a long time, which only made him feel sleepier, so he startles when music starts to play in the car.

"Wait just a little longer, _amigo."_ Naito tells him, glancing at him briefly. "We're almost there."

He starts to slouch but instead starts to fiddle with the dials and buttons on the radio until he finds something he likes. He leans back in his seat, looking at Naito again.

"Oh that's good." He says faintly, clutching his stomach as it starts to feel like it's rolling up inside of him. "Might wanna hurry. Don' feel so good."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Naito is saying a stream of Spanish words under his breath so quickly he can't make out most of them (Jay was by no means fluent as it was), he's trying to keep from upchucking and all of the alcohol is really hitting him by now.

He starts to giggle, despite feeling his stomach trying to heave its way out of his mouth.

"I like this song." He taps a hand against the dashboard as the song plays. "Have you heard it before?"

Naito glances at him, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He smiles tightly at Jay.

"Yes." He says and turns his eyes back to the road.

He frowns. Was Naito _ignoring_ him now? He's reminded keenly of the past few days-and more-all at once and suddenly the car feels _suffocating._

"Let me out." He says, feeling overwhelmed, tears building in his eyes. "Let me out, Naito!"

"Jay, _estamos casi allí. por favor espera."_

"I don't _understand!"_ He shouts, ignoring the tears falling down his cheeks. He puts his head in his hands. "Please, Naito. Please."

"Jay, _dulce, por favor solo espera._ Trust me?"

That makes him stop, moving his hands away to look at Naito through blurry eyes.

"Yes." He says hoarsely.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The car finally comes to a halt, the beginnings of another song coming on the radio coming on, catching his attention, before Naito shuts everything off. He is quick to get out and even quicker to help _Jay_ once Jay starts to stumble out.

"Ooh baby."He sings. "It's making me crazyyy."

He gets steadied once more by Naito's hands and the slight jostling enough and he's throwing up what feels like his whole stomach, clear liquid piling out and he shuts his eyes closed against it. He moans pitifully after a few moments, nearly falling to his knees but gets steadied by Naito again-thankfully not throwing up again this time.

"M' sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Come on now."

Naito's body against him as he helps him to the stairs of the small apartment complex. It's slow going but he manages to head up them, despite his head spinning a bit, continuing to hum the song from the car under his breath.

"Wait." He says, fiddling with the back of his pants. "Y'guys have uber eats or whatever, right? I'll order some food. D'you have Denny's? I don't remember…"

"Jay."

He pulls out his phone, having forgotten he put it there a long time earlier (since he didn't have any pockets in his ring gear) and starts to swipe at it with a heavy feeling hand.

" _Jay."_

"Hold on. I got it." He squints over at Naito. "What do you want t' eat? They probably-"

There's a sudden loud sound, making him jump, nearly falling out of Naito's grip.

"WOSSAT NOISE?!" He yells, looking around wildly.

"That's just your dignity, Jay."

"Whuh?"

"And your phone." Naito sighs. "Come on now, _amigo. Date prisa ahora."_

"Oh okay. As long as you know where it went."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He's back to singing, leaning up against Naito as he stops them in front of a door. He giggles again.

"What? Naito asks distractedly, apparently looking for something in his pockets.

"Ooh baby."He sings. "It's makin' me crazy. Every time I look around, you're in my face."

Naito pauses, glancing over at him. "Is that how it goes? Wait it...nevermind."

"You're in my faceeeee."

"Jay."

"Fressshly pasted poster, smile from th'past...Elephants n'acrobats, lions snakes monkey."

" _Jay."_

"Pele speaks righteous Sister Zima says funky...how bizarre...how bizarre how bizarre."

"Jay _, por Dios santo…"_

He nearly loses his grip on Naito, his hand sweaty from perspiration but manages to hold on tight.

"Jay, I need to open the doo-"

The door opens and he stumbles, falling into the entryway with a huff, laying on his back, panting a bit from exertion and starts to sing again.

"Every time I look around...every time I look around…"

"Michelangelo would have given his soul to paint you. _O una escultura, tal vez."_

Jay squints at him with blurry eyes. "What? Who?"

"Nevermind." He kneels beside Jay, taking his hand in his own. " _Levántate, amigo. No puedes dormir aquí, el suelo está frío."_

"I don't…" Jay says, eyes drifting closed. Naito was holding his hand. Wasn't that...well… "M'good here. Hungry, though."

Maybe Naito would get him some pancakes now. He _was_ hungry and he remembered asking about them earlier. Oh but then Naito would have to get up and that would mean he wouldn't be holding Jay's hand anymore.

He stretches his legs and tries to get comfy, despite the floor feeling pretty cold against his thin clothing.

"First I couldn't open the door. Now I can't close it." Naito says with a sigh. " _Ayúdame un poco_. _Sólo un poco, por favor."_

He tries to hold Naito's hand tighter, squeezing it. He had nice hands, Naito. He had always thought so, even when those same hands were laying into him in the ring or when he was pulling his hair...ahh, what a time. He had wanted to touch Naito for so long. So nice.

He feels a little jolt as Naito starts to pull him up into a sitting position, blinking.

"Why'd you. Stop me getting thossse pancakes? Jay mumbles as he was levered into sitting. M'bloody starving…"

"You were scaring the cashier. You're lucky I found you when I did; he looked ready to call the police." Naito says, nudging Jay's feet away from the door, closing it. "Anyway. _..estás demasiado borracho._ They would have made you sick."

"Would not." He pouts. His stomach felt alright. Naito was just being _rude._ Wasn't a host supposed to offer something to their guest? Wait. Was he Naito's guest? _Wait. Was this Naito's house?_

"Time to get up." He reaches for Jay again. " _Vamos_ Jay _, necesitas dormir_."

"No, I need PANCAKES." Jay grunts, pulling his hand away. Why didn't Naito _understand?_ Jay had so little right now as it _anyone_ could understand him, he hoped it was Naito…

He starts to fall back after pulling his hand away so hard and has no time to react, looking at Naito in surprise a moment later when he realizes Naito's saved him from hitting his head on the hardwood floor.

"Thanksss." He slurs. Maybe Naito _did_ understand? Maybe he could begin to hope he cared?

"I jussst."Jay sweeps an arm across the floor, his feelings swelling in him, remembering the feeling of Naito's hand in his."I just love you. Always have."

"I just love you," He says again. "God, I'm in love with you." A hollow laugh tears from his throat. "'Swhy I went out and drank, wanted to tell you...liquid courage and…"

_Because I didn't want to be a failure to you. Failure in everythin' else. Didn't want you to see…_

He drops an arm across his eyes. "But I couldn't. Just kept drinking."

He moans, hands digging into the floor. Everything hurt and his head was spinning now.

"Dunno why I never-" He starts, shaking his head, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth that wasn't from the alcohol. "I...fuck, forget I said anything."

"I can't, Jay," Naito replies quietly, putting his hands under Jay's arms. "I can't. But you will."

"Hmm?" He manages to get up with Naito's help, but he sways a bit, his head feeling light.

" _Nada,"_ Naito murmurs, holding him close. _"No es nada. Vamos, campeón. El sofá está por aquí."_

He laughs bitterly. "Not a champion."

"Neither am I."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He stirs a bit out of his stupor when they get to the couch and he plops down onto the floor as soon as Naito sits down, sitting up against his legs.

"Wait, come up here." Naito says, pulling at him.

"M'fine here." He says.

"Hn. Maybe _I'm_ not."

"You're not?" He looks up at him, frowning.

Naito looks at him for a long time before shaking his head and sighing.

"Later then," Naito says, as if to himself. "Later."

"Later?" He asks him. "Good."

He rubs his face against Naito's leg a bit, not registering the intake of breath the other man takes.

"Don't wanna leave."

Naito makes a sound in his throat but doesn't say anything. Jay's head is still spinning but not as bad.

"Jus' gonna rest my eyes for a minute. Okay?"

"Alright." Naito's voice is quiet but _warm._

"I'll take care of you, Jay." is the last words he hears before he drifts off. " _Lo prometo."_

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Notes:

 **Amigo** \- friend

 **estamos casi allí. por favor espera** : we are almost there. please wait

 **dulce, por favor solo espera** : sweet, please just wait

 **Date prisa ahora** : Hurry now

 **Por Dios santo** : For God's sake

 **O una escultura, tal vez** : Or a sculpture, maybe

 **Levántate, amigo. No puedes dormir aquí, el suelo está frío** : Get up, friend. You can't sleep here, the floor is cold.

 **Ayúdame un poco** : Help me a little.

 **Sólo un poco, por favor** : Just a little, please.

 **Estás demasiado borracho** : You're too drunk.

 **Vamos Jay, necesitas dormir** : Come on Jay, you need to sleep.

 **Nada** : Nothing

 **No es nada. Vamos, campeón. El sofá está por aquí** : It's nothing. Come on, champion. The sofa is over here.

 **Lo prometo** : I promise.


End file.
